The Quarter Quell
by Migillicutty
Summary: 18 year old Anzilee Lightren knows who she is: a future Victor. She's trained her whole life for the honor of representing District 2 in the 25th Annual Hunger Games. But even Anzilee isn't prepared for what she'll find in the Quarter Quell Arena.
1. Chapter 1

My hands spin wildly over the haft of my spear, attacking and thrusting and countering the blows of my opponent. Sweat runs in rivers down my face. I am blind to everything but the spear in my hands, the ground under my bare feet, and the weapon of my opponent. And my own tiredness. This fight has been going on for a long time, every minute of it filled with countless attacks, blocks, lunges and increasingly desperate tactics. I'm not fighting nearly as well as I was when we first drew our spears. My attacker knows this; I can see it in the savage grin spread across her scarred face.

Suddenly she lunges at me, whipping her spear at blindingly fast speeds as she goes in for the kill. An hour ago I would have met the charge head on, but now I find myself taking a step back, then another, as I desperately try to fend her off. And then I see my opening.

Able as my opponent may be, she's not invincible. She's gotten so caught up in her attack that she's forgetting to guard herself. I know this may be my last chance to end the fight, so I draw back my spear and stab for her unprotected abdomen. The tip of her spear appears out of nowhere, effortlessly blocking my blow. Then, without stopping or even slowing the movement of her spear, my attacker gracefully spins around and uses the butt of her weapon to knock my feet out from under me.

I land flat on my back, wind knocked out of me, and scowl. I've lost the fight and we both know it, but I refuse to shut my eyes as I wait for the end. She smiles, and puts a foot on my chest, keeping me down as she goes for the knife in her belt.

But instead of plunging it into my throat, the scarred woman leans down and makes a small cut in my belly. It hurts, but I don't cry out, I won't give her the satisfaction, even when she dips her forefinger into my blood. Slowly, she paints a large red X on my cheek.

"Dead." my mentor growls. "A bit more than an hour long fight and you're dead, Anzilee. That is pathetic. The reaping is a _week_ away! I'm not sending weak tributes to lose the Games for us, _especially_ not this year. You better get it together if you want the Victor's crown, Anzilee, because I'll send someone else if I have to." And she turns, and walks out of the training school gym without another word.

I get to my feet and push a strand of my fire-red hair out of my face, smiling slightly despite the scratch on my belly. I've been training under Gilla Trembar for 17 years- I know how to tell when she's bluffing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I spend the rest of the morning in Weapons Training with the other kids at Gilla's school. Legally, it's called the District 2 Survival and Combat Training School, for advanced Peacekeepers. But that fools nobody. Gilla's school is for the training of tributes for the annual Hunger Games. In other Districts, they call the students Career tributes. In District 2, they call us Iron Children, because of our strength, Competitors, because we're the one that give the others a run for their money, Game-players, because we play the Games the way they are MEANT to be played, not like the sniveling cowards that are always so abundant in the first night's death toll, and occasionally, Future Victors. Because this is who we are.

This is who I am. Anzilee Lightren, future Victor of District 2. I've been in training for the Games since I was born, practically, when my mother 'donated' me to Gilla's school. Gilla Trembar is a Victor herself, of course. She was the first to go into her games intending to win, the first one to train for the brutality required in the Arena. Before her, in the very early years of the Hunger Games, the tributes were all quivering, frightened children, so blinded by fear they were unable to see what it took to stay alive. But Gilla was smart, smart enough to see what the Gamemakers were looking for: blood. Not blood spilled by the muttations that were so popular in the early Games, but blood drawn by other tributes.  
>Gilla gave it to them by the bucketful. And for the past 20 years she has worked as a mentor, tirelessly helping kids like me follow in her footsteps. There are other Victors working at the school, of course, but everyone knows its Gilla that's in charge. She started this place, she runs it, and she is the one that so frequently leads our tributes to victory. <p>

And now that I'm 18, it's my turn. The reaping for the 25th Annual Hunger Games is a week away. I must make my final preparations. And so I spar all day with the others, especially the boys. I know they are sizing me up, keeping track of my strengths and weakness, just as I am watching for theirs. That was one of the first things we all learned at school- don't trust anyone. I will be in the arena with one of these boys, probably the oldest one, Rand. We will both be fighting to kill each other by any means necessary, so why bother making friends? 

By lunchtime, my clothes are soaked through with sweat and my long red hair is falling out of its bun and into my face (I HATE wearing my hair long. If I had it my way, I would cut it all off, hack it short with my favorite knife. But Gilla says it will look good to the cameras, so I have to be content with tying it back every day). Lunch is nothing special. It never is. One of the others, a girl called Senetta, tells me the kitchen is running low and it's my turn to hunt. I grin and accept the job. 

Belden Vaquer, Gilla's second in command, is in charge of food for the younger kids. But at the age of 12, tributes-in-training are expected to be able to feed themselves. The mountains around District 2 have plenty of game (it's commonly believed that Gilla is responsible for the large herds of wild pigs that live there), but none of us have time to go hunting in addition to training every day. So we worked out a system, long ago, where we take it in turns providing for the whole group. Together we hunt, kill, clean, and cook all our own meat (which is why it never tastes good) and gather most of the greens and fruits we eat. It's not delicious, but it's a good system- we don't trust each other, exactly, but we know how to make a good alliance, and we'll know how to feed ourselves in the Arena. 

After an hour or two of tracking I get lucky and manage to spear a pig that wandered to far from its herd, as well as a few rabbits and a squirrel from the traps we set up. Actually, Sentta set them up; she's good at traps, unlike me. I don't have the patience to sit around waiting for something to come across my snares. But when the game is already sitting in the trap, it's quite nice.

As is my habit, I cut the throat of the pig and let it bleed out before I haul it back to school. It's not necessary, but I dip my finger into the blood pool the pig is creating and paint a red X on it's snout, as well as the fur of the rabbits and squirrel.

It's the symbol of death at the training school. Sparring matches don't end until you have 'killed' your opponent by painting them an X in their own blood. When I was very little, 4 or 5 or so probably, I used to wonder if other people would find the red X barbaric. It's a training school secret, a strategy we are forbidden to share. I was young, but I sensed that it might not just be a secret because it was an effective strategy. I wondered if other people, especially people from districts less fierce than ours, found it… scary.

That summer, the Arena was a mountainous landscape completely filled with snow. And to add to the difficulty the Gamemakers threw in these mutts that looked a lot like 3 foot living razor blades, and they traveled in packs of about 20. By the time they got through with the District 8 boy, there was nothing left but a 10-foot circle of blood soaked snow. That was the first year of the Games I watched live, not videos of old Games. After that, a drop or two of blood on somebody's cheek didn't bother me at all. It's harmless, compared to the real thing. And in the end, when it comes down to it, all that matters is you, the weapon in your hand, and the enemy you face. Who really cares what the spectators in other districts think? They're not sponsors, after all. They don't affect how I will fare in the Arena. And with the Games, MY games, so close at hand, this is all I should be worrying about.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Most of the rest of the week is the same. Fighting, training, hunting. The same routine I've been following since my first birthday when my mother dumped me at Gilla's doorstep. Mother's wanted me to be a tribute ever since I was born. I weighed in at 10 pounds, 3 ounces, and my mother said, "Oh, she's big and she's a strong one! She's going to be my Victor." Since that day she's been dreaming of the life she'll lead when I win. Mother doesn't like living as a poor stone miner's wife I guess. She wanted to put my brother, Cephas, in Training School as well, but she didn't have the money to enroll him as early as she did me. He was 6 by the time Mother sent him, and completely unable to make it through _training_, much less the Arena. I got Mother to pull him out before the other kids injured him permanently.

Cephas is a funny kid. He's so... different. Oh, he looks normal enough. Hair the color of mud, medium build, strong arms from his apprenticeship in the granite quarry. But the way Cephas thinks and acts is very different from the ordinary mindset in District 2.

Cephas is _kind_. There's no other word for it. I can't understand it, but he is. One time, when I was walking him home from school Cephas spotted a small bird on the ground, crying and cheeping for its mother and being very _loud_. It was just a baby, unfortunately, way to small to eat. So I didn't understand why Cephas bent over to pick it up. Softly, tenderly, he smoothed its feathers and gently placed it back into it's mothers nest. When I asked why he was wasting his time over such a tiny thing, Cephas looked at me like I was crazy.

"Because it needed help, of course."

I don't think I'll ever understand him.

Being kind makes Cephas so _vulnerable. _ When our mother tried to put him in Training School, he became and instant target from stronger, meaner kids. Cephas was only six then, but I was ten and very strong. When I was three of them ganging up on _my_ little brother, well, I little overboard. The worst beating I ever got from Gilla was because I broke one of their arms in the struggle. But I didn't care. I'd have done it again, and I'd do it today. _Nobody_ hurts Cephas while I'm around.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

At the end of the week, the day before the reaping, I'm spending some last minute time in the Interview Room, trying out a few lines for the cameras when the call comes.

It's my Test Day. My last test day _ever_. Once a year, before the reaping, Gilla performs an assessment of every student's abilities, to determine who is most fit for that years Hunger Games. The call always comes our of the blue, but this time it's more horribly surprising than ever, which is stupid. I knew I would be testing. I rush to the girls barracks, change into suitable combat clothes, and arrive in the Training Center in two minutes flat. The room is modeled perfectly after the Training Center in the Capitol. Weapons and Survival stations are arranged around the walls, while the center of the room is occupied by a huge padded floor- a fighting ring. I take my place in the middle of the floor and wait for my mentor.

I haven't seen Gilla since she killed me in our last spear fight. This isn't actually a rare occurrence. As far as I know, no one's ever defeated Gilla at sparring. When she finally arrives, Gilla makes no mention of the fight.

"Cameras on." Gilla says loudly, so the rooms microphones will pick it up. "Testing Day for Anzilee Lightren, age Eighteen, for participation in the Twenty-Fifth Annual Hunger Games. Starting now. First unit: Survival Skills."

I'm extremely nervous, but I know what to do. I walk slowly to the Edible Plants station, taking care not to let my legs shake. Gilla quizzes me on every plant she can come up with, then does the same for animals and insects. Then I demonstrate my abilities fire starting and extinguishing, knot tying, trap laying, grace under pressure, tracking, hunting scouting, building and digging shelters, then taking them down, covering my tracks, strategizing, and performing for the cameras. That's the first section.

The next section is Physical Ability. Gilla has me lift weights, run around the gym to asses my endurance, doing complicated yoga poses that test the limits of my flexibility, climbing ropes and a fake tree in the corner of the room, throwing things as far as I can, catching things Gilla throws at me, and a few difficult combinations of these things.

The last section of my testing is the most important: Sparring, Fighting, and Hand-to-Hand Combat. Wrestling, boxing, knives, knife throwing, archery, sword fighting, axe wielding, using maces, tridents, blowguns, clubs, flails, slingshots, even jagged bits of metal. And spears, of course. With some weapons, Gilla tests my dexterity with my left hand as well as my right, which is more challenging, as I'm right handed. I've never been very good at heavy weapons like clubs, maces, flails, and tridents, but other than that I think I'm doing well. Finally, Gilla drags over a dummy and tests my knowledge of choke holds and deathblows, both with weapons and my fists. Then she nods briskly.

"Test over. Cameras off." Gilla turns to me, about to give me critique. My stomach clenches in anticipation of her next words.

"Well done." Her face twists in an expression that might be a smile, but she's so unused to the action it looks more like a grimace. "You're going to the Games. I'll spread the word that everyone is to vote for you tomorrow. Congratulations."

I'm in! I'm going to the Hunger Games, to the first Quarter Quell! I jump up in the air and let out a wild cheer.

"Get out of here, Anzilee. I've got other kids to test. You can have the rest of the day off, but I expect you back first thing tomorrow. We need to finalize your strategy."

I nod hurriedly and run out of the room even faster than I ran in. Testing has taken so long there's only a few hours left before dark, but it's more time off than I've had in quite a while. I push open the front doors of the Training School and head toward the quarries. I can't wait to tell Cephas I'm going to the Quell!


End file.
